Werecoyote
by DomsWritersBlock
Summary: I use to believe that the moon was the most strikingly, beautiful thing that I had ever laid eyes on. However, I don't hold that same admiration anymore since its part of the reason I lost full control and did the worst thing imaginable.
1. Prologue: The Curse Of The Full Moon

PROLOGUE: **"The Curse of the Full Moon"**

Everyone always gushes about the stars, the faint sparkles that are sprinkled across the night sky, but for me, I was more fixated on the bright white orb that was surrounded by a pool of darkness. I use to believe that the moon was the most strikingly, beautiful thing that I had ever laid eyes on. However, I don't hold that same admiration anymore since its part of the reason I lost full control and did the worst thing imaginable. The car crash that everyone believes took the lives of my mother and sister as well as me, isn't what really happened. The truth is that I'm the reason for the car crash, and I'm the person responsible for killing my mother and sister. I didn't know I was a werecoyote, wasn't really aware that something was different about me until I turned that faithful night, the horrifying images, and the screams, will forever be engraved in my mind and that pain will shadow me for as long as I walk this earth. I am Malia Tate, and this is my story.

It happened on a full moon, before I even understood the meaning behind full moons. We were on our way home, from my recital, we left the play early due to my complaints of severe stomach ache. However it wasn't a stomach ache, it was the straining of my muscles and my bones that were practically screaming out of pain. Almost as if they were growing or changing, adjusting into place. Of course when I relayed this information to my mother, she said I was being overly dramatic and that it probably had to do with something I ate and that I'll be fine.

Apart from the crippling pain caused by my body, my ears were also causing me discomfort. Somehow they had become very sensitive to sound, it's like I could hear everything and feel everyone's emotions all at once. My body felt overwhelmed with pain that seemed to increase as we drove home. And the medicine that we picked up from the market didn't seem to be working as quickly as I had hoped.

"Mom…" I mumbled, inaudibly talking now seemed too difficult, my gums were beginning to ach and my teeth were starting to throb. She didn't hear me. "Mom." I said again this time my pitch much louder.

"Yes Malia?" My mother asked irritation laced in her voice. I knew she was disappointed in me, she had worked really hard on my costume for the school play and had gone over the lines with me, even after I had made it clear to her that I didn't want to be a part of it. But it was a class project, therefore I had to do it or else I'd suffer a 0, which I was willing to accept, my mother however was not. So I know for a fact that no sympathy would be coming from her.

"How long does it take for the medicine to work?" I groaned through clenched teeth, the pain reaching a level ten at this point. I tried to focus on the scenery that was outside of my windshield.

"You gotta give it sometime sweetie." That wasn't the answer that I wanted to hear, it's been several hours hasn't it, I tried adding up the time it took for us to get to and from the store, added the time it took to get groceries, and then picked up dinner and ice cream on our way home. That seemed like plenty of time past.

"What's wrong Malia?" my sister asked as her little pudgy hand swept a curtain of my hair out of my face.

"Your sister has the five second stomach flu." My mother said sarcastically, poking fun at me, if only she could feel the extreme pain I was in, and then she would know that this is no laughing matter.

"Nothing..." I groaned, intent on shielding my discomfort from my sister. "I just…I just don't feel too good." I wish everyone would stop talking, stop asking me questions. I gripped my head between my hands hopping the pressure would numb the pounding that was occurring in my head.

"Mom…Malia doesn't look too good." The pain was becoming unbearable I could feel sweat collecting on my face and hair sticking to the sides of my neck and chin.

"Shut up…. I said I'm fine." I growled the sound seemed unhuman, almost animal like. Another wave of pain began to wash over me. I felt an inkling of guilt for snapping but I was in excruciating pain and all I wanted was for it to stop.

"Malia…I know you're not feeling well, but that is no way to talk to your sister." I couldn't hear my mother, the sudden bolt of anger, the pain, so much of it was taking over me and before I knew what was happening the bones in my body began to shift, and crack. I cry out in agony, as I fell to the car floor, which causes my mother to take her eyes off the road for a second.

"Mommy look out!" My mother swerves the car hard in the opposite direction of a tree, only to lose control causing the car to tip over in the process. I could hear my younger sister scream, my mother yell "hold on girls" and the loud crushing of metal as the car tumbled into a ditch.

All the while I feel something thick and heavy entrap my body, and my mouth and face feel weird, almost elongated. I use what I believe is my hand, to touch my face, but I am shocked when I feel a soft almost fur like texture on my cheeks and when my eyes peer down in front of me, I realize I have a paw for a hand. The excruciating pain that I had been feeling is no longer present. I began to cry, but instead of hearing my voice I hear the sound of an animal softly whimpering and howling. What's wrong with me?

The strong scent of copper and metallic consumes all my senses and sparks an intense hunger, and anger that I had never felt before. I hear the sound of my sister whimpering somewhere beside me.

"Mommy…Malia?" She calls out through faint sobs that instantly stop when she stares up at me. Fear is glistening from her doe tear-streaked eyes, and is radiating off of her in waves. And somehow this fuels the hunger that has taken full control of me. Before I could get a grip on what was going on with me, my body launches at her.

What happens next is a blur of images filled with bright red and pale olive skin. But if there's one thing I'll never forget it's their screams, and their pleas. I could still feel their fear and their loss of hope and the life leaving their bodies.

The coyote part of me loved every second of power, and the control that it gained from killing them. While the human part of me was so devastated and stuck in a state of disbelief that sometimes I couldn't help but pray that it was all just a horrible dream. Until I wake up in a den with my sister's doll and my coat beside me, the only reminders that I am no longer human, and don't have a right to be.

I knew that going home wasn't an option, nor was going to the police, mostly because I didn't know how to change back to human, and a part of me somehow came to accept that, and I was okay. Because I wouldn't have to explain what happened, I wouldn't have to live with a lie or live everyday with the fear of killing someone else that I loved.

Though the human part of me hated everything that I have become, I've realized that if it wasn't for the animal instinct, I wouldn't be alive. I learned to be independent, how to survive, be brave and master my senses, I learned to accept all parts of me, the good, the bad, the ugly and the weak, the human and the coyote. But the world that I had learned to adjust to and accept will change, and again I'll be forced to adapt to a life that I had long ago put behind me.


	2. Chapter 1 More Bad Than Good

_AN: Hi, readers so this story is a fanfiction, that is based off of Teen Wolf. I was struck by inspiration from that of the character Malia Tate/Hale. I am starting the story at Season 3 episode 14, where she was introduced as a werecoyote, and working from there. If you haven't watched the show, then it wont make much of a difference._

CHAPTER 1: "More Bad Than Good"

It had been just another day; I woke up, took a run, hunted for prey and cautiously traveled on back to the den for a nap, before hunting for dinner. This was my day to day routine, which is a life that has taken me some odd years to figure out and adapt to. For several months I had great difficulty learning how to hunt other animals, and it took me a week to actually keep down my food without throwing it up. It was the human part of me that couldn't grasp the concept of killing others to survive, forgetting that the bacon that I'd eat with my eggs came from a pig. Then again there's a big difference, I am the butcher this time. But besides having the sympathy for my prey I hated how I could feel the coyote's emotions, its thoughts and the enjoyment it got from seeing the terror in the weak animal's eyes. Over the years that compassion, that sympathy and the human part of me was pushed to the furthest depths of my mind and the only thought I had was survival.

The night is silent the only thing that could be heard is the crickets and rustling of the leaves as a cool breeze passes through. I normally take the route that points west of my den, but tonight I decided to take the eastern route which led to the highway. It's a lethal chance that I am taking, but I am willing to risk it in hopes of finding road kill, which in coyote terms is fast food. By the grace of mother-nature and a young teenager that most likely just got their license, I was able to stumble upon part of a deer carcass. It clearly had been roasting in the hot sun that afternoon sending its enticing smell throughout the forest which I'm sure, had gotten the attention of a few animals that reside in the forest. Thankfully I had come just in time before all the good parts were taken. Trust, me as gross as it sounds, you learn to appreciate what you get, and what the forest provides you.

As usual after I've had my dinner I take the long route back to my den, but not before taking a little detour to the place that made changed my life dramatically. In the beginning I avoided this place like the plague, I didn't want any reminders of what I did or how I became this way. But one day, I had somehow taken a different route back to my den, and wound up in front of the wreckage. I'm not really sure why I stop here every night before I go to bed, I think a part of it has to do with the human side of me, believing that my mother and sister's presence still lingers here. Or I guess you could say I considered this their grave, and that me visiting is my way of paying my respects to them.

The iridescent moon, cast it's light over the forest, causing the metal wreckage to shimmer in the night. And without fail the memories of that faithful night begins to replay in my mind, as they always do when I visit, and I know that it's time to head back. With a heavy heart I turn to leave, but just as I take the first few steps a scent hits my nostrils, and my body goes still. Right away I know it's a human and it's more than one. Though it's faint it's still very strong, meaning that they had to have left more than half an hour ago. I was use to humans passing through here, but never has there scent been this strong or this close to the wreckage before. The coyote part of me takes full reigns and gone is my vulnerability, guilt and sadness, confidence and rage now takes center stage.

_How dare they trespass my mother and sisters burial site, whoever they are, they're going to pay. _A growl begins to build in the back of my throat, but I keep it at bay. Reminding myself that it wouldn't do me any good to get violent, I don't know what these humans are capable of, and since there's more than one, I'll be outnumbered. _More than one, you better run, _is the motto I live by, and so far it has done me a great service. The rage soon decreases but I am still in full defense mode and all my senses are heightened and I know I'm prepared for whatever may jump out in the night.

I cautiously took another route that leads to the den, only to stop about five feet away. There were several flashing lights that weren't too far from my home and I could hear faint voices of humans. If it's one thing I hated the most besides humans trespassing my mother and sister's grave, it was humans trespassing my home as well. Clearly, I won't be able to sleep comfortably tonight I'll have to look for another source for shelter before I can return back. I count my hours by miles, and so far it's been several miles that I have passed until I am deep within the forest that for a second I forget which way I had come in. I find another den, before claiming it I scope it out, inhale the aromas that circulate around as well as inside of it. Making sure it isn't another animal's home, before marking my territory. It's not spacious as the one that I have become accustomed to, but for now it will do.

**THE NEXT DAY**

I spent a good portion of my day, traveling back to my den, only to find caution tape is secured around it. I tear through the adhesive tape and stroll into the place that had been my home for the past eight years. Anger began to rise in me at the sight before me, all my stuff was gone everything down to my sister's doll had been taken. I could feel the growl building in the back of my throat and before I knew it I was howling. _Whoever it was, will feel my wrath. _I took a moment to concentrate on the faint scents that lingered in the den. There were too many to find the distinct one that I had come across the other day. And then a brilliant thought came into my head, the only scent that would take me to my trespassers was that of the items that were taken from me. With this new found idea I began attempting to track the scent of my sister's doll, since that was the strongest one, the most personal item of all. I took a deep breath and put all my energy and focus into honing on that one scent, allowing my nose to be the guide and not my eyes. And then it happened, my ears perked up and my body immediately began to move in the direction of the scent.

The sun had set and the pink-orange tinted sky was soon replaced by the navy-black night sky and I was still tracking the scent of my sister's doll. The fact that I could even remember it surprises me but not that much. On top of the revenge and anger, I was starving but food wasn't my first priority tonight, so I ignored the grumbling that was coming from my belly and continued onward. However if I happen to come across those intruders, then I will gladly eat them for dinner. The scents from the human that invaded my home, led me to a school, and then several other human smells filled the air. Again I concentrate on the scent of my sister's doll, and just as before my ears perk up and I allow my nose to point me in the right direction. I find a way into the school, by traveling through the boiler room. The scent is getting stronger, and I'm getting closer, the thought of seeing my trespasser fills me with great anticipation. However when I get to the destination the room is empty, disappointment fills me and the rage increases. Now more determined than ever I focus back on the positive, the invaders are here I just need to find them.

I could hear faint footsteps, informing me of what direction to take, and soon the sound began to get louder, letting me know that I'm close. I inhaled deeply and I was able to pick up the scent of my sister's doll and a distinct stench that I had never come across before. It was a mixture between a fox and wolf as well as human. That familiar smell was one that I had detected at both the wreckage and my den. Though faint, its scent remained through all the schools hallways, and seemed to get stronger as I descended the stairs. Normally if I come across another animal such as a wolf I forfeit the battle, but tonight I wasn't going down without a fight.

Finally I spot her though the hallways are dark my night vision is impeccable. I looked the girl up and down, _so you're the reason why I can't go back home_. I use my nose to sniff her out, and a different scent, one that was of human and animal framed around her. I let out a menacing growl, bared my teeth and proceeded to attack her. As any smart prey she ran, which only increased my delight and hunger for revenge. She barricades herself in a room. _Clever, but not clever enough_, I growled to myself before taking a few steps back and charging into the door's glass window. As to not be seen or heard, I tip-toed around the lockers before using my nose to catch her scent again.

I had finally gotten her right where I wanted her, I could smell her fear and hopelessness and the thought of tearing her limb from limb thrilled me. No I had never killed any humans after I had accidentally slaughtered my mother and sister. But this was different, trespassing my territory, invading my home, and taking my things we're above crossing the line. I would have easily let it go had the invaders not gone as far as they did, but now shit just got real personal.

I had been so consumed with rage and revenge that I didn't hear the creaking of the lockers tilting and before I knew it the loud bang of the steel closets came crashing down around me. The noise sound so familiar to the car accident caused me to revert back to that scared eight year old that I once was, and I began to take off. Only to be stopped by the scent of my sister's doll. It was trapped in a bag, I tried to tear at it but I heard more than one foot step and stayed true to my motto, _more than one, you better run._ So I did, I exited the same way I came in and disappeared into the forest.

Just to be safe, I don't travel back to my den, I go back to the substitution I had found the night before. I stopped by Beacon Hills Burger Joint, rummaged through the waste baskets outside, and was lucky enough to find uneaten burgers and a few fries, before calling it a night. The meal wasn't as filling as the real live thing, but it was better than nothing, and right now I had to keep a low profile. As I cautiously traveled to my new found home, I stumbled upon the realization that I may not be able to live in this forest anymore. Whoever it is that is after me, for reasons I do not know, maybe dangerous and I couldn't risk it. Maybe it was time I let this place go, and move further into another forest somewhere that people don't tend to travel through. _Maybe it's time to grow up._ The only reason I stayed, was because this place was familiar and all that I knew and mostly out of fear of the unknown. But I am not a baby anymore, I know how to protect myself, I know how to hunt and I know that there is no way that I would get the second chance at being a human, or see my father again. This could be my new beginning, I could start over, and truly be the coyote that I was destined to be, instead of having the reminder of who I was in such close proximity.

The following morning I caught a bird for breakfast before taking the journey back to my den, to say my farewell. As I walked into the dark, cool hole, I couldn't help but feel the overwhelming sense of loss and sadness. This place had somehow become my home it made me feel safe, and gave me such great shelter. Though it was filled with so many painful memories of depression and nightmares, there were moments of peace and acceptance. But now it was time to move on, and move forward. With a heavy heart I began making my way towards the wreckage, and then my body immediately froze in place. I could hear human voices, and their scents were strong, they were nearby and there were several of them, a pack.

What I hadn't realized was that just as I had been tracking my intruders, they were tracking me. There was one however that was stronger than all the others and was the most familiar that I had recognize it was the human that stole my sister's doll. I knew that he was close, his scent was getting stronger, and I could hear him. I didn't wait to introduce myself I took off as I had the other night. It wasn't like me to run away from a fight, but his scent, it was different it wasn't just human it was wolf as well, and that to me was a battle I was sure I would lose. Also, I was trying to move forward with my life, start a new beginning, killing a human, whether they deserve it or not, would just defeat that person.

I had gained enough distance ahead that I knew I could hide near the wreckage it would be too difficult for him to maneuver himself inside the tight crawl space. Maybe then I could wait him out and hopefully he'll give up this hunt to capture me or do whatever it is he plans to do with me. I didn't understand what I had done to get on his radar, or why he was chasing me out of the forest to begin with. (A) I had surrendered, and was on the verge of leaving, on my own free will. (B) I haven't attacked any humans since my mother and sisters death, I've only fed on the usual prey; rabbits, birds when I'm desperate, and the occasional road-kill. And if I stray far enough, 'Beacons Burger Joint' has a wide variety of leftover food thrown away every weekend. So I am completely clueless as to why this whole chase is taking place.

Just as I'm rounding the corner near the wreckage he somehow beats me there, blocking any entry I could possibly take to escape him. He too was on all fours and there was no ounce of fear in his eyes. This only increases my rage and hatred for this odd creature. _What the hell do you want from me?_ I took a menacing stance and let out my most ferocious growl. _If he thinks I'm going down easy, he has another thing coming. _I began to drag my paw through the dirt preparing myself to charge at him. Just as I was ready to take him down he lets out the loudest most powerful roar that causes a shiver to creep down my spine. The sound was so massive it almost felt as if it was traveling through my body demanding entrance to my soul.

Something in me snaps, I collapse to the forest floor, and that warm encasing cocoon that I had come to know dissipates from my skin causing rows of goose bumps to take its place. My body and limbs feel long and stretched out, my lungs feel larger and the air tastes different. I could feel wisps of silk strands rubbing against my face and back. When I open my eyes, they're blinded by the intensity of the sun and its rays. I turn my head away and waited for my eyes to adjust, and when they did my vision had never been so clearer, and the colors had never been this bright. I could see the several shades of green in the leaves, the reds and browns in the dirt and the tree bark, the shades of blue that covered the sky.

As I turned my head to look up at my enemy his face was not that of a human but of a creature that I had never come across before. His stunned face matched exactly what I was feeling as I began to sit up, taking in my surroundings. I looked down at my paws and was stunned to find hands instead, not my eight year old hands but my mother's hands. I moved each finger and rubbed them against my thumb, I'm human again. _But how….how did it happen…what did he do to me? What does this mean? _I looked up at the weird being again. There was a flash of relief in his features, and the red in his eyes vanished and brown orbs replaced them. And slowly but surely his face transformed to that of a normal human boy. For a long while we just stared at each other neither of us making sudden movements, until I heard the rustling of dead leaves behind me, along with a mixture of male and female voices. My ears immediately perked up and my body went rigid, he too, could sense the sudden shift in the air.

"Scott, you got to go, your father is on the way as well as the rest of Beacon Hills Police Department. I'll make sure she gets home okay." The sheriff said as he placed a brown jacket over my shoulders, covering my bare skin. I placed hands through the large holes of the sleeves and zipped up the jacket.

"Sheriff Stillinksi will take good care of you." The odd boy with the raven hair said, before running off in the opposite direction.

"Let's get you home." He placed his hand on my shoulders and guided me through the woods over to where his police car was parked. There was someone already sitting in the passenger seat, so I took the back. As we got into the car, it was made clear that the Sheriff knew who the stranger was.

"Stiles…I told your friend that I'd make sure Malia gets home okay."

"Exactly, you told Scott that, not me." The boy said as he turned around to look at me he mouthed the word 'Hi' before facing forward again. The car ride there was long and quiet, which is something I didn't mind being left with my thoughts, the only discomfort I felt was being in my human form. It felt so foreign, and sometimes not real, which is why I couldn't help but fidget with my hands every now and again fearing that any second I'll turn into a coyote and kill this innocent father and his son in the car. Just the thought sends a chill down my spine.

Before heading straight home, the Sheriff offered me a chance to clean up, at his house and a change of clothes. My brain couldn't comprehend the fact that I am heading home, or the fact that I'm going to see my father and the fact that I'm human, there were several mixtures of emotions that were coursing through me all at once; fear, anticipation, and anxiousness. My mind kept popping back to the images of my father, wondering how much of him has changed, if he got remarried, if he had started another family or if he would remember me.

We pull into the drive way of the place I once called home. The house was just as I had remembered it to be, nothing had change except for the chipping from the green trim on the house, and the patio swing had been replaced with a wicker chair and end table. Other than that it all looked the same. As we made our way to the door, I could feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest, there were so many emotions coursing through me all at once it was hard to get a handle on them. Images of what he used to look like and of what he looks like now begin generating in my mind. The walk up the lawn and the porch stairs had gone by too quickly and soon the anticipation and excitement turn to nervousness. Thankfully the Sheriff was beside me, because if I had done this alone, I may have not had the courage to knock on the door myself, let alone see my father.

After two knocks, the screen door opens, and my world stops for a split second, and all I could hear is the steady pounding of my heart as my father steps out of the house and stands right in front of me. I could smell the familiar scent of the dial soap and tide detergent he always used. The red flannel shirt and jeans combination he always sported. It was like I had been catapulted to a time when I was that eight year old girl, who had to look up at him, just to have a conversation. But now we were at eye level, which reminded me how much time had actually passed. I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes, and my chin begin to quiver. _Daddy? _He looks the same as I had remembered him, just eight years older, with a five o'clock shadow taking place across his face. His dark short wavy hair was disheveled and his hazel eyes had dark circles underneath them, as if he hadn't slept well in years.

"Mr. Tate." The sound of the Sheriff's voice brought me back to the present, and my eyes dart from my father to the sheriff. It was as if my father was having difficulty processing who was standing in front of him. I guess he would, since he didn't exactly get a heads up that I would be coming home, then again neither did I.

After a few seconds pass by, the realization crosses his weary face and his eyes widen with disbelief. "Malia?" He whispered breathlessly almost too afraid to believe it to be me standing before him. I nod my head excitedly, finding it difficult to put words together to form a sentence.

I was finally able to muster up a feeble "Yeah", in return. In that instant he immediately took me in his arms and I felt the tsunami of emotions pour over me and a sob escape my throat, as tears flooded my face and down my chin. I clutched on to him as if he was the only thing that was keeping me from falling, and that was because he was.

After the sheriff left, I familiarized myself with each part of the house, my dad by my side the whole time. Don't get me wrong I missed him and I am happy to see him, but every time I look at him, I am reminded of the heavy secret I am keeping from him. And along with that secret came the guilt that I have yet to deal with. So I was happy when I had an excuse to shower, so that I could get away and be alone with my thoughts again. _Do I tell him the truth? Would It be worth it? What if he asks me, what do I tell him then?_ I wasn't prepared for this, sure I thought about what I would tell my father when it happened. But when the option was taken from me, I didn't think anything of it.

As I got out of the shower, finally, the cool air hit me hard. This was something I definitely was going to have difficulty getting used to. I immediately grabbed the cotton towel and wrapped around my shoulders hoping to harbor as much body heat as possible, before goose bumps could spread across my skin. I quickly dry off before putting on the pajamas that my father provided me with. The cotton fabric felt like soft fur against my skin, but it wasn't as warm. I inhaled the smell of the shirt, and hoping to catch a hint of my mother's perfume, but I couldn't. I tried again, this time with more concentration than before, and again the only smell I could get was that of the house and nothing else. I instantly felt the wave of sadness come over me and tears began to escape my eyes. I couldn't smell her, when I was a coyote I could still smell her scent at the wreckage. But as a human my strong sense of smell didn't carry over. _Stop crying, you're fine, stop crying. She's gone you knew this already. Stop crying. _I take a deep breath and I slowly exhale it. _They're gone, they're gone… you knew this already. _I turn the faucet on the sink and splash cold water on my face to rid the evidence, before heading to my room.

The room that hadn't changed the most was mine, the walls were still pink, I still had the colorful floral bedding as before, and Fred the red nose teddy bear hadn't moved from the spot I left him in eight years ago. My carrousel night light was still perched on my white dresser. I walk over to it and plug it in, and watch as the horses begin to spin. I then turn to look at my childhood teddy bear that had been my partner in crime since I was five, the bear I would constantly put blame on when I got in trouble for things I swore I didn't do. I walk over to him and pick him up, he was still in the same condition, with minor dust and cob webs. I use to believe he could talk, I kind of wish he could, so he could tell me what to do in terms of my father. The sound of my dad's voice startles me, _how did I not hear him coming_.

"I was worried that your mother's pajamas would be big on you but, surprisingly they fit you just fine." Father said as he strolled into my room and walked up to the window. I watched as he undid the latch and struggling for a few minutes before successfully opening it slightly. "But don't worry I know they're a little dated, plus you need your own clothes so tomorrow we'll go to Beacon Hills Mall and we'll get you whatever you want." He said as he wiped off the grim and dust that had built up on the window, onto his jeans. His eyes narrow in thought as he watches me climb into bed, hazel orbs scan the rest of the room. "And somewhere down the line, new furniture."

I nodded my head before saying "Okay." I felt like I should say more, and I truly wanted to, but it appeared that my brain was still in a state of shock. Being home is something that I had always dreamed of and I had wished for during the first few nights that I was a coyote. And now that those dreams are a reality, I wasn't sure how to felt about it anymore.

"I'm so happy to have you home." My father said as he began to tuck the covers underneath the curves of my body, mummifying me in the process. His actions reminding of when I was a little girl, being prepped for a bedtime story I think a piece of him is still stuck in the past.

"Me too." I mumbled as he moved a stray hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. He sat there for a second, just staring at me, not blinking almost as if he was afraid I wasn't real. There was so much love reflecting in his eyes, love that I didn't deserve. If he knew the truth, if he knew what I did and what I am he wouldn't look at me the same.

"Well, good night sweetheart." He kissed my forehead and caressed my cheek before getting up from the edge of my bed and walking out the door. Halfway out he stopped in his tracks, turned around to look at me one last time, again he gave me this strange look, before nodding his head to himself and finally closing the door behind him.

"Goodnight dad." Once I heard the sound of his footsteps dissipate, I immediately removed the covers that felt like a strait jacket suffocating me. The smell of the itchy comforter didn't help either. This place that I had grown up in, that I had accumulated memories from, though familiar didn't feel like home.

If there's one thing that I have come to hate, since the seven hours that I have been human, is the amount of confusing emotions that seem to bubble to the surface making it extremely difficult to gain control over. It was bad enough that I couldn't control the animal side of me, but now there's a side of me that I had once known but seems completely foreign. I should be happy, I'm back home, my father clearly still loves me, and most of all I'm human. But why does a huge piece of me is missing, and why am I still yearning for the life I had in the forest?


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, between work and registering for classes I kind of been juggling my time, but thankfully I haven't lost my momentum with this story. I am so in love with Malia's character and so eager to take this journey to discovering and learning more about her. Now I know she is portrayed as this fierce strong girl on the show, Which without a doubt she is, esp. with what she has been through, however this Malia, is one who has gone from being a coyote back to being human so the transition isn't as quick. But the fierce and strong Malia will soon make an appearance over the course of a few chapters.

**CHAPTER 2:** Echo House

**PART I ****"****Choices Made, Choices Taken****"**

It happened again, the images were so vivid, and the smells were so strong that I could still taste the bitter metallic of blood in my mouth. The worst part of it was that I couldn't stop it, in my dream I'm human and I still couldn't stop it, I still couldn't save them. And just like all the times that I have woken up screaming from a nightmare, my father is there right beside me. Pulling me from the depths of my dark memories and guilt that I had thought I had dealt with a long time ago. Apparently, I hadn't.

"You're okay, you're okay Malia. It was just a bad dream." My father said in hush gentle tones as his warm hand caresses my face. "Oh my god… you're freezing." I can't see him or hear him my eyes are blinded by the visions of the coyote mulling my mother and little sister. My ears could only hear them, calling out to me… begging me to save them…pleading with the coyote. _It's my fault…I should have saved them…I should have stopped her…why couldn't I stop her?_ I could feel my body shake and before I knew what was happening a loud painful sob escaped from low in my gut and out my mouth, and another…and another… fat hot tears began to tumble down my cheeks. My father immediately engulfed me and held me in his arms.

"I killed them, it's all my fault…I'm sorry…I killed them…please forgive me." I whispered breathlessly in between hysterical sobs that caused my body to shake so hard that not even my father's strong arms could restrain me. "I didn't mean to…I'm sorry…please forgive me." And just as quickly as his arms had enveloped me, they disappeared, but I could still feel his hands on my shoulders.

"Open your eyes sweetheart, come on." My father said gently and encouragingly. "Malia…wake up honey…open your eyes!" I could hear the urgency, the fear, the frustration as he gave me a firm shake.

"Dah-dad…"I said incoherently, as my mind began to come out of the fog left over from the nightmare, he wrapped his arms around me again and I buried my face into his chest and felt the sobs take over me again.

"It's okay….you're okay." My father said soothingly as he ran his hand through my hair and down my back, repeating the motions until my crying finally subsides. And just like all the other times that I wake up screaming from a nightmare, my father gets me a glass of water tells me a story about his childhood, and I pretend to fall asleep.

After the nightmare I usually, can't go back to sleep, because every time I close my eyes I see theirs, full of fear and full of pain. Their screams and pleas continue to echo in my ears, and the walls feel as if they're closing in on me, taunting me. It seemed like the house itself was haunting me, torturing me for killing my mother and sister. _I need to get out of here._ I wait a few hours, because I know my father will check in on me one last time before he goes off to I'm sure that the coast is clear, I quickly get up from my bed and tip-toe down the stairs and out the house. The night air is cool, and I am tempted to run back in the house to get my leather jacket. But I put one foot in front of the other and started off with a slow jog and before I know it I was running. I wasn't sure where I was heading, and didn't care. All I knew was that I had to get as far away from here as possible.

I had gotten as far as West Point Beach, and stopped to catch a breather, also the sand made it difficult to continue running, if this was regular pavement I probably would have kept going, and not stop until my legs couldn't run anymore. The beach was completely deserted, of humans that is, there were a few seagulls rummaging through a wastebasket a few feet away. I plopped down on the sand, and dug my feet into the grainy beige crystals. The coolness of the beads along with the morning breeze sent a chill down my spine. I ran my hands against my shoulders several times to create some warmth, before focusing on the beauty in front of me, the sunrise.

As a coyote I couldn't remember the world being this beautiful, the swirls of colors and hues of pinks and oranges that painted the morning sky. The hint of white, black, green, and shades of blue that crashed into each other as the water from the sea tumbled forward and up the sides of the beach, before retracting back leaving white foam in its wake. I was tempted to jump in, to allow the water to swallow me whole. But instead I inhaled the salt and dewy air, took in the vision of the sun and ocean scenery one last time, before picking myself up from the ground and heading back home.

I wasn't sure what time it was, but I was sure it was nowhere near the afternoon yet, and seeing how my father doesn't have any jobs lined up at the moment, he'll sleep in just a little past noon. I crept into the house as quietly as I could, and closed and locked the door behind me. I let out a sigh of relief when I didn't see or hear my father in the living room, and began to make my way to the stairs. _Yes, made it home without getting the third degree._

"Where did you go?" My body jumped at the sound of his voice. I really hate that I can't hear him before I see him, or at least smell him before I see him. _Damn it,_ _I spoke to soon._ My father rounded the corner that lead into the dining room, he was dressed in a grey T-shirt that said Tate's Construction with a small, blue pick-up truck on the front and as usual he was sporting jeans and a flannel shirt.

"I went for a run." I said with a shrug. You would think that by now he would understand our routine that we had going. I wake up screaming in the middle of the night, he stays with me until I 'fall asleep' then I sneak out and go for a run, and don't return until the morning. And based on the fact that there were no police cars, like the first time this happened, I knew my father was more concerned than scared. He looked me over with scrutinizing eyes, dark circles had claimed residency underneath them. He appeared just as exhausted as I felt, and I would have felt sympathy for him and guilt for keeping him up, had this interrogation hadn't taken place.

"Barefoot…and in your pajamas?" My father asked skeptically as he crosses his arms over his chest. I peered down at my baby-blue and white striped matching pajama set it had collected dirt at the bottom of the pants, while my feet were covered in smudges of black guck, sand, and dirt. I rolled my eyes, _great even if I tell the truth he still will think that I am lying_. _Well when I lived in the forest I didn't need clothes or shoes to go for a run. _I took a deep annoyed breath before exhaling it. _I also didn't have to report back to anyone about what I was doing, or where I was going._ I know that he worries about me, but sometimes I wish he didn't. If only he knew that the boogie man isn't the one hiding under my bed, or roaming the streets with a knife in their pocket, no the boogie man just happens to be a part of me. And there's no way he could save me from myself or my memories.

"I needed to clear my head." I said as I crossed my arms as well, copying his stance while holding his intense gaze.

"Are you sure you weren't sleep walking again?" _Ugh again with the sleep walking! I only did that the first few nights that I was home…and then again last week…and once this weekend._

"Yes, dad…I'm sure." He nodded his head slowly his facial expression displaying that he was not at all convinced with my response. I watched as he turned around and began walking in the direction of the dining room. I let out a sigh of relief. _That went better than it normally does_.

"Come into the dining room, we need to talk." Again, I spoke too soon. I let out a small annoyed groan.

"I thought that the whole stare down and questioning about my whereabouts was the 'talk', what more could we have to talk about." I mumbled under my breath as I followed him into the dining room.

The only thing I wanted to do was sleep off the run, and the restless night that I had. I let out an agitated sigh before saying "Okay." As I walked into the entryway of the dining room, I noticed a black knapsack, sitting on the table. "What's with the bag, are you going away?" My dad hadn't taken any construction jobs that weren't local. I remember when I was little he would take some that required him to be away for a few months, and there was that one time that we didn't see him for half a year. Because flying back and forth was too cost effective.

"No, but I'll get to that, just have a seat." I stared at my father skeptically before taking a seat in front of the bag. A weird uneasiness began to fill the pit of my stomach. This wasn't going to be like all of the other talks that involved tea or water, where he'd ask me what I dreamed about this time. Or what exactly goes through my mind, when I sleep walk.

"You had another bad dream last night, Malia." There were worry lines etched in his forehead and exhaustion had marked its territory under his eyes, as he stared down at me. His hands were gripping the top of the chair that he stood behind. Putting a barrier between us, I almost wondered if it had anything to do with what I said last night, could I have possibly made him consider that I was telling the truth, about being a coyote.

"I know…I was there." I mumbled inaudibly, finding it difficult to keep eye contact with him because all I could see was fear and concern. The discomfort began to twist and turn forming knots in my stomach. As usual when I'm nervous, my hands search for something to distract themselves, the hem of my sleeves became its victim.

"That's the 12th time this month." My father said as he took a seat directly across from me. _That's actually an improvement, last month I was having a bad dream almost every night since I've been home. So what exactly is he getting at?_ "Now I know how you feel about talking to someone, but I really think that this can help you." He placed a small forest green covered pamphlet in front of me. On the top part of the pamphlet it read in bold, white, cursive, letter's _"Eichen House Psychiatric Hospital"_ and saw the words '_counseling'_ and '_treatment'_ in the description underneath it, I put two and two together. It wasn't like he hadn't spoken to me about speaking with a psychologist before, but never had he stated anything about leaving home. Was I that horrible to be around? Yes I was moody and you would be too if you were getting use to all these hormones and emotions that were always going from one to ten in a matter of seconds.

"You want to send me away." The words burning like acid as it left my mouth. There were a combination of emotions that were swimming within me mainly anger, some confusion, and a hint of betrayal. It was disappointing that he expected so much of me, and it was frustrating that I had a knee-jerk reaction to fight him on anything and everything that involved psychologists. But I guess it doesn't help in my favor that I have had vivid terrifying nightmares, and wake up in cold sweats screaming, or that my sleep walking had advanced to me telling my father that I am the coyote that killed mom and Annabelle and proceed to go on all fours and attack him. I think that may have contributed to the last straw that broke the camel's back.

"No, Malia that's not it at all. I just want you to get help, and you haven't allowed me to do so." A part of me wondered if his reason for sending me to Eichen House had anything to do with him giving up hope and belief that his little girl would in time return to him, and that somehow after two and half months of being home, I would morph into the daughter he had pictured for eight years. It's not like I'm not trying, I just don't know how, maybe he was better off believing I was dead.

"You think that I'm crazy." It was more of a statement rather than a question. How could he not, I haven't acted normal since the day that I stepped foot back in this house.

"No, no sweetheart, I just…you have so much guilt that you won't let go. And I think this place can help you in ways that I can't. I'm seeing a psychiatrist too, you know."

"You are…why, there was nothing wrong with him, based off of this conversation I'm the one with the problem." I said distractedly, purposefully avoiding his eyes, my fingers now claiming its next victim, the loose thread from the table cloth. I look up when my father lets out a snort, before shaking his head.

"Because I have a teenager, who I thought was dead…but is alive. And I'm trying to figure out how do I move past it? Just like you missed eight years of your life, I missed eight years of it as well." _It's probably best that you did._

I keep forgetting that this isn't as easy for him, as it is for me, and that I'm not the only one struggling to adjust. Out of nowhere I showed up and disrupted his life, just as some unknown stranger had disrupted mine. I, more than him, had moved on, and had accepted that we weren't apart of each other's lives anymore. But somehow a fucked up thing called fate brought us back together, and now we were both finding it difficult to play the roles of father and daughter again.

"If you think it will help…then I'll go." I wasn't at all thrilled about this idea the last thing I wanted was some stranger inside my head finding out the truth of what I did and what I am. But I knew that I couldn't keep punishing him, for something that I did, this is my problem. I need to figure out how to deal with it on my own, instead of getting him involved. My father smiled widely, and pulled me into his arms.

"I have already packed your bag, we leave today." He said as he planted a kiss on my temple.

"Today…can't we put it off for tomorrow…or Monday? I just agreed to going, why do I have to go immediately?" I asked, suddenly regretting the fact that I agreed in the first place. I wasn't prepared to be vulnerable with anyone else, I'm barely vulnerable with my father I can't imagine opening up to a complete stranger about my past…and having them believe a word that comes out of my mouth.

"What difference would it make to wait a few more days Malia? You want to get better don't you?" His hazel eyes were pleading with mine, and the little girl in me who wanted nothing more than to make her father happy, said yes. It wasn't that I didn't want to get better. I just didn't want to do it his way. But I a promise is a promise, and I don't go back on my promises.

"Mmhm…" I nodded my head slowly and forced a smile to spread across my lips. _You're doing this for him…just keep reminding yourself it's for him. You owe him that much._

"Then we leave today, so go wash up and get dressed, I'll make lunch." My dad said giving me a little push in the direction of the entry way that led to the stairs.

After taking a long hot shower and sitting down for a silent brunch, we got in my father's black pick-up truck and headed to Eichen House. The car ride there was quiet, which wasn't anything new, it was always quiet around my father and I, which is partially, or mostly my fault. In the beginning he tried to bring up memories from the past, the ones that are filled with my mother and Annabelle, and I unthinkingly would change the subject. Or thankfully I wouldn't remember them at all, this then resulted in conversations that revolved around me and how I needed to get help; So I can stop having nightmares, stop sleeping under my bed, stop hallucinating that I am a coyote, stop blaming myself for living, stop sleep walking into the forest…just stop… stop acting abnormal. If only he knew, that these habits aren't something I have control over, and isn't something I can easily break. It's not my fault that my body is having withdrawals. I can't help it if there's a big part of me that misses the forest, the smell of the dirt and moss, the feeling of the rotted crunchy leaves against my fur…or the fur coat that I had. The sound of the crickets serenading in the night, birds singing in the morning, and the cool breeze as it passes through the forest trees.

It was those small things that I had come accustomed to, and it didn't help that I slept in a 'rolling' restricted bed that felt like it was made for a nine year old rather than a supernatural creature. But how do you explain this to someone, most of all, your father that the reason you can't seem to sleep comfortably in your bed is because the ground floor is all you've known. Or that the reason why you sleep under your bed is because it is the only place that makes you feel safe and reminds you of the den that you had called home for 8 years.

It took me a while to get adjusted to the purpose of clothing as well, but then I realized that clothes were used as a source of warmth and protection, which is almost similar to that of the fur coat I use to wear. But still nothing can replace it. This leads me to another problem I was having difficulty adapting to I couldn't seem to keep warm. Clothes just weren't enough to trap the heat in, so I would literally wrap my mother's quilt around me and put on my father's construction gloves just to keep warm. And when my father took note of the fact that I was bundled up on a 80 degree summer day, it sparked questions that he wasn't completely sure he wanted the answers to.

It had taken us several hours before we finally arrived at Eichen House I started to feel unease about the idea especially now that there was literally no turning back. I let out a shaky breath before taking my time to unbuckle my seat, and climb out of my father's truck. He took the knapsack from my hand and with an encouraging smile he nodded his head in the direction of the building. Nothing about this place felt warm, it may have to do with the black gated surroundings that made the place a bit off putting and uninviting. I wonder if it was to keep people out or to keep people in, maybe a bit of both. I found it hard to walk, my father had to constantly place his hand on my back and gently guide me towards the building, and up the never ending stone staircase towards the grand wooden doors.

The appearance inside made up for the appearance outside, It didn't look like a hospital, it looked more like a hotel that lacked color and décor. The only thing that seemed to remind me that this was in fact a psychiatric facility was seeing a patient talking in the corner to themselves, and a randomly placed, gated room that was directly a few feet across from where we stood, housing a patient who appeared as though they hadn't seen soap or water for more than a week. On top of that I didn't exactly receive a warm welcoming, the hallways of the old mental institution was actually pretty deserted minus the two females clothed all in white sitting behind the glass encasing with the sign 'Nurses Station & Information' hanging over it.

"How long do I have to stay here for exactly?" I asked my voice barely above a whisper. The nervousness that I had felt in the car was now taking full force and was making me nauseous.

"Until I know for sure that you received the help that you need." That wasn't the answer that I wanted to hear, and based on the weight of the knapsack it didn't feel as heavy. So hopefully it's only for one night or maybe two.

We didn't have to look far for assistance we were soon enough greeted by a woman in a grey uniform. Her short cropped braids moved as she titled her head to look at me, a kind smile present on her face.

"Malia and Mr. Tate, please follow me." Was all she said before, walking straight past the nurses station, down a hallway with rows upon rows of doors that had frosted glass windows, and name plates. _We just got here, how does she know my name? _She opened the door to what I presumed was her office, and allowed us to walk through it first, before taking a seat behind a wooden desk. There was a stack of papers waiting on her desk that had my name on them.

"Okay, Malia so your father has already taken the time to fill out the paper work ahead, so I'm just going to run through with you the process that we go through." I nodded my head silently, my eyes still glued to the paper work with my name on it. _He filled it out… he filled it out already but we just discussed this today. _I could feel my body slowly sit down into the black chair that was seated across from the desk in front of me. My mind was finding it difficult to accept how quick this was happening. I shook my head. _It's okay…you're doing this for him…remember. You've been worrying him to death with your nightmares and screaming and sleep walking…You want to get better…You need to get better. _

"The first 72 hours, there are no phone calls, emails, and no visitors." _72 hours, how many days is that again? There are 24 hours in a day, 24+24=48, that's two days. 48+24=…..9,10,11, 12…4 and 2 =6+1=7…72 hours is three days…THREE DAYS!…I'll have to be here?_ "We will be taking you from here to a brief physical, and then in the morning you will be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker and attend group therapy." _Three days…I don't know if I can do three days…_

"First 72 hours...Dad what are they talking about?" He didn't answer me. In fact he wouldn't make eye contact with me. "I thought this was more of a sleep over, like the ones I did in third grade at Jessica Marilia's house, I would come home the next day…I 'm coming home tomorrow right?" Again my father didn't answer me he just let out a deep sigh before running his hand over the back of his neck. The nurse seemed completely unfazed as she continued going through what seemed to be a rehearsed speech.

"We ask that you wear these slippers Malia, no laces are allowed." She said as she placed grey slippers in my lap. "And please empty your pockets in here." She then placed a clear plastic container on the wine colored desk in front of me. "I'll show you to your room." She said as she got up from behind the desk and began walking towards the door. I looked from my father to the nurse, both happen to be staring back at me expectantly. _This was all moving too fast…I don't think I can go through with this. I get it, he's worried about me…he wants what's best for me…but this may not be it. I'm not crazy…_

"When can I go home?" I asked as I slowly got up from the chair, dropping the slippers in the process. I frantically picked them up before running up to my dad.

"Malia…just try it out okay…remember this is about you getting better." He had a guilty look on his face, and I could feel him, feel his discomfort.

"I feel better now…" I said with a forced smile, which was getting hard to keep, since I could feel my chin and lips trembling, and tears were beginning to collect in the back of my eyelids. I shook my head when he tried to hug me, and backed away from his arms. "I want to go home now…" He gave me a weary smile and said no. "Dad…take me home now." He shook his head again and said no. I looked from him to the nurse, and behind her there were men dressed in grey uniforms whispering to each other. "Dad….take me home now…please." I begged.

"I'm sorry sweetheart…but I can't." _What the hell does he mean, he can't. Or he won't. I don't belong here! The nurse knew my name, the paper work was already filled out, he did this way before I even said yes. _Out of nowhere I punched him…not once, not twice, but repeatedly in his chest. And before I knew what was happening the men in the grey uniforms were pulling me off him. I fought as hard as I could to get out of their grasp but it was no use, they were stronger than me. The nurse that given me the speech was now coming towards me with what appeared to be a needle.

"What is that…Dad…STOP, don't touch me…" I shoved one of the men, and tried to dodge the other. "Dad… where are you going…Stop!" One man grabbed me from behind. While the other held out my arm, and gently shoved the sleeve of my shirt up exposing my forearm. "Let go off me…DAD!" I called out for him, but he didn't stop them, he watched with a pained look on his face. And then I felt it, the pinch from the needle as it nipped my skin and entered my vein. Whatever it was that they put in me it began to work instantly. The room was spinning, voices were becoming muffled, but I fought like hell to stay awake, and to get out of their grip.

"Malia…calm down…please sweetie…it's gonna be alright." His voice sounded distant, as if he was far away, but I could still see a shadow of him in front of me.

"Dad…I'm fine…I promise…I'm fine…I promise." It was getting hard to talk, getting hard to keep my eyes open, the room soon went from fuzzy to black, and I couldn't hear anything anymore.

When I finally woke up, it took my eyes a minute to adjust, to my dark surroundings. I felt groggy, but most of all I felt a huge headache coming on. When I tried to massage my temple, my hand wouldn't budge. Something was keeping it from moving. I tried to sit up, but again something stopped me. I couldn't move my arms, or my legs, they were bound to the bed by black and white restraints. I frantically scanned the room, white and beige subway tiles covered the wall there was a white end table on the left of me. The sound of voices and footsteps sliced through the silence in the room, and I immediately called out, to whoever it was on the other side of the door. "Let me out..." I shouted, hoping to catch the attention of the strangers on the other side of the door.

"They can't hear you." A voice whispered in the dark shadowy corner of the room. My heart began to pound, I felt helpless, I haven't felt in a really long time, and it's a feeling I definitely despise the most, besides pity that is.

"Who-who's there?" I looked to my left and strained my neck to peer over the end table, with the help of the moonlight's iridescent glow I was able to make out a girl, sitting on a bed a few feet away. Felt more like a few inches from the way she was staring intensely at me.

"I'm Eliza… your roommate…well technically this was _my_ room before you came." She had frizzy red hair that was spiraling out in every direction, around her face, the moonlight made her look pale and her eyes dark. "So what's your story, why are you in here…besides being crazy of course." She asked as she began swinging her feet back and forth, every once in a while her heel would scrape against the floor, creating the most painfully annoying noise possible that literally caused your skin to crawl. I couldn't tell if it was her intrusiveness and weirdness that was rubbing me the wrong way. Maybe I wouldn't feel uncomfortable about her if she too had been bound to the bed like I was instead of sitting up, and having the upper hand to attack me whenever she pleased.

"That's none of your business…and I'm not crazy." I said through gritted teeth, while attempting to yank my arm free.

"By saying you're not crazy means that you are…"

"That…that doesn't make any sense. If I said I'm not crazy…then I'm not." I barked back, agitation and frustration evident in my voice. I was not in the mood to defend my sanity, and there was no way I was going into a debate with someone who made no logical sense whatsoever.

"But if you weren't…you wouldn't be here." _Valid point…_ I let out a groan. _Please stop talking._

"I'm going to lose my mind." I said more to myself, than to her this time I tried to move my legs, but to no avail they didn't budge from the restraints.

"I'm pretty sure it's already lost." Eliza said with a chuckle. I gave her my most lethal glare.

"You…should stop talking to me." It was more of a warning, rather than a request. I turned my head away from her and closed my eyes. I could feel a wave of emotion crash into me, but I refused to allow myself to feel pity. _Don't cry, don't cry…just breathe. _I inhaled a shaky breath and let it out. I inhaled again this time filling my lungs up completely with oxygen I held it for a few seconds before letting it out. _You're not crazy…You're fine…you're okay…You're not crazy._ And then I heard it, the sound of shoes squeaking against linoleum tiles, coming closer…and closer. Someone was coming, whoever they were, they could let me out. "Hey…HEY…LET ME OUT OF HERE!" I shouted, I leaned my head forward as far as it could go, and strained my eyes, as they focused on the light coming from the space where the door ended and the floor began. A shadow stopped on the other side of the door. "Please just…just let me out." I begged. There was a long moment of silence, hope filled me, when the shadow remained there a minute longer. "Please…I just want to go home." I begged to the person on the other side of the door. But soon the shadow disappeared, and the sound of the squeaky shoes began again and they started to get further and further away until all you could hear was silence. "LET ME OUT…LET ME OUT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, again and again until my throat was completely hoarse.

"You're wasting your time they're not going to let you out." I ignored her I didn't care if I proved her right or my father right by sounding and looking crazy. I was desperate to get out, to not be I tried to wiggle my wrists free but I couldn't. _Why did they do this to me? Why did he do this to me?_ "Good luck trying to get out of those, you'll drive yourself mad and only end up with bruises." I could already feel the welts starting to form as well as the stinging of most likely open cuts from my previous attempts. I wiggled and shook my body in every direction possible, to the point of exhaustion. I finally gave up, because I realized as much as I didn't want to admit it, Eliza was right…I was only hurting myself, and was driving myself crazy just like she said I would. So I tried to close my eyes and wish for sleep to take me. But it never did.

It was impossible to fall asleep, it had less to do with my roommate Eliza arguing with her imaginary friend '_Bethany_', and more to do with the fact that again, I was in a bed that was rolling restricted, and restrained to. And again, I was in a room that felt like it was closing in on me. But most of all, it was the silence, it was so deafening, at least at home I could escape my thoughts, go for a run and let the night pass me by. But here…was a whole other type of suffering I was bored out of my mind. I tried counting to a million, naming the states in alphabetical order, naming the teachers I had from pre-k to 3rd grade. None of it helped to past the time quick enough, and whenever there was a moment where I had nothing to preoccupy my mind, the faces of my family would start to haunt me. Reminding me that there was no way for me to escape what I'd done.

Finally when the sun shined its blinding rays through the crisp white windows, I knew it was morning. _I can't do another night of this, I just can't. _To say I was impatiently waiting for the doors to open is an understatement. I peered over to the left of me and stared at Eliza's back.

"Psst…Eliza…" I whispered. "Psst... Liza." I said much louder now.

"What?" She groaned, as she turned to look over her shoulder at me. Her orange hair covering most of her face, the only thing I could make out was her dark eyes that were barely peeping out from their lids.

"What time do they let us out?" I asked anxiously, my whole body felt stiff, and was sore from several failed attempts at breaking free.

"Not now." Eliza replied before turning back over and snuggling further underneath the felt-covers. _Well thank you captain obvious._

"Can you be more specific?" I said with a hint of agitation.

"In a little while." She grumbled into her pillow, this time with a bit of edge in her voice. I rolled my eyes before laying my head back down again and just as before I began counting, this time to a billion. Somewhere between 500,060 I had fallen asleep and was awoken by the sound of metal clinking together creating a bit of a chiming sound. _It's the door…_

"Tate…Watson rise and shine." My head immediately snapped up when I heard a male voice and the sound of the door opening. I never felt so much relief in my life before until now. But just as that feeling came it disappeared quickly, when I recognized the man he was the one that had stuck a needle in my arm. A mixture of anger and fear pulsed through my veins, as he made his way towards my bed. I watched, heart pounding teeth grinding, anger building within me, as he undid the restraints on my ankles. I felt the strongest urge to strangle him with my thighs but thought against it, the last thing I wanted was to be restrained or drugged again. I took deep breaths to calm down my anger, since all its done has gotten me in trouble. "You…you're coming with me." The orderly said as he removed the restraints from my wrists and then the top of my shoulders.

"What…what did I do?" I asked, feeling my bones pop into place and crack loudly as I sat up.

"Well after your little tantrum yesterday you missed your physical…so I'm taking you to it now, come on Tate, put some pep in your step." The orderly said as he nodded his head in the direction of the exposed hallway.

"What about a shower…and clothes?"

"We have provided you with clean clothes they are already put away in your drawer." He said pointing to the white dresser at the end of by bed. "The girls room is to your left, down the hall, on the right hand side."

After the physical I was instructed to meet with a staff psychologist, I followed the nurse's directions to Dr. Coleman's office and let myself in. The room was extremely bright, due to the fact that the blinds were pulled all the way up to the top of the window, letting the sun's blinding light illuminate the entire room. It didn't help that the walls were white either, it just added to the intensity.

"You can have a seat." Dr. Coleman said, his eyes ever leaving the stack of papers he was reading through.

"Is that my file?" The man didn't respond he hummed as he continued to flip through the pages.

"Ma-li-a…is that how you pronounce it?" Dr. Coleman asked as he enunciated each vowel in my name. When I didn't respond, he finally looked up from what I could only assume was my file. The older gentleman looked to be about in his late forties' or early fifties he had black slicked back hair with grey streaks, bushy eyebrows to match and embarrassing white whiskers peeking out from his large nose. His thick red framed glasses which had been perched on the bridge of his nose when I walked in, was now on the verge of falling off the tip of it.

"Is that my file?" I asked again.

"Yes, it is, what do you think is in it?" Dr. Coleman asked, as he removed his glasses from his face and placed them on top of the papers. If it's based on my father's observations from the past two months then there was really nothing to tell.

"Everything that is wrong with me." I replied with a shrug.

"And what do you think is wrong with you?" He asked an intrigued smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"You're the psychologist you tell me." One large bushy eye brow raised and an amused smile now fully took over his pale thin lips.

"Based off of what I read, you blame yourself for the accident, and the death of your mother…and your sister. Something that you had absolutely no control over and there was no way of preventing that from happening. You feel guilty…because you survived and they didn't. Your sleep walking, your nightmares are all tied to the heavy weight of guilt you feel, the guilt you refuse…to let go. Because you have held yourself accountable for something you believe you could have stopped. But I'm here to tell you Miss Tate, that all that pain you're harboring and punishing yourself for, is not something that a young girl like yourself should be carrying around with her. I'm pretty sure, your mother and your sister wouldn't want their death on your conscious, especially when there was nothing you could have done, or anything you did to cause it." And that's where he was wrong…I _was _the one that caused it, and I had everything to do with them not being alive today. _That was a good speech Dr. C you almost had me…until you messed up on the end. _I had made up my mind, regardless of how my father feels about my mental state, I am not staying here another night. I'll call and try to reason with him, if he doesn't meet me half way than that's it I'll leave, and never look back.

"When can I get out of here?" I could feel my leg bouncing up and down impatiently as well as my fingers drumming against the arms of the chair I was sitting in.

"That choice is entirely up to you." Dr. Coleman said, as he leaned back in his dark brown leather swivel chair. _If only it was that simple._ I didn't have a choice between being a coyote or not, I didn't have a choice at turning back to human and I damn sure didn't have a choice at coming here because if I did it would have been on my terms.

"The last time someone insinuated that I had a choice, I winded up in here… so I'm going to ask you again…when can I get out of here?" Barely keeping my cool composure, I was beginning to feel like a wild caged animal and the day literally just began.

"If you apply yourself and allow treatment then you can go, but that decision lies within you." _Seriously these fucking riddles are ridiculous, what is with people not giving me a straight answer?_

After speaking with Dr. Coleman, I met the social worker, and spent another a hour and a half deflecting before going on a wild goose chase for a phone, the fact that there were no maps or a sign to direct you to places was frustrating and annoying. The place was huge there were rooms upon rooms, and a spiral staircase that lead to several different floors. On top of that, all the walls were painted the same pristine, crisp white, the same burnt orange tiles flowed throughout the whole building, none of the rooms were distinguishable from the other getting lost was inevitable. I decided to take the path that lead outside. _All I want is a phone seriously I just want to make a freaking phone call. _And just as I'm rounding the corner thinking this, I find a pay phone hooked into the wall with dark wood surrounding it giving you a sense of privacy. I didn't have to try and remember my home phone number it was engraved in me when I was a kid, along with our home address, and emergency contacts. I listened as the phone rang several times before my father finally answered. I could hear him sighing on the other end of the phone, letting me know that he knew exactly who was on the other end.

"It hasn't even been 24 hours yet." By the sound of his voice I knew he wasn't amused nor was he upset probably along the lines of disappointed. But at this point, I didn't care, I wanted to go home. Yes I wanted to get better for him, yes I wanted to get better for myself, but if anything being here is making me lose my mind. And like he said, it hadn't been 24 hours yet.

"You made it seem like it was my choice…" When it came to talking with my dad, I was always nervous and always seem to revert back to a child. Even when I'm angry at him, like I am now, I can never stay angry, mostly because he's my father and then partially because that guilt is always hanging over my head.

"I know, and I'm sorry." My dad let out a tired sigh. I didn't have to be in front of my father to know what he was doing, I could already see him running his hand through his brown disheveled hair before rubbing his face.

"If you're really sorry you would take me home." I pleaded, hoping if he heard the urgency, in my voice that he would cave.

"I am truly sorry for the way I went about it, but I'm not sorry that you're in there. You need professional help Malia, and I can't watch you suffer another night. When it's all said and done you'll thank me when this is over." _He was wrong if he thinks that I'm going to thank him in the end. _

"No, dad I won't." I said before slamming the phone down, not once but several times until the anger subsided. I then reluctantly headed to group therapy.

Due to the fact that I didn't know my way around, I arrived late, and had to take the seat closest to the woman whom I presumed was the group counselor. She had long jet black hair and small delicate features that made her look almost angelic, and while her smile made her appear trust worthy.

"I see we have some newcomers here, would you like to introduce yourself before we get started?" I wasn't sure if she was referring to just me or other's in the group, so I sat there quietly avoiding her stare, hoping she would choose someone else to focus on.

"Malia…Tate?" The young woman said reading off of the clipboard in her lap before looking up at me again. Her eyes matched the color of her hair but nothing seemed harsh about them, as they began penetrating mine. It was almost as if she was trying to see inside my mind without having to pry it out of me.

"I didn't offer…" I said shaking my head, my hands as usual found a distraction the cushion that I was sitting on was rudely being invaded by my fingers as they began pulling out its soft stuffing.

"I know that, I volunteered you." My eyes danced from hers to the people that sat in the circle with me. Young and old patients, some who were also staring back at me waiting patiently, while others seemed to be lost in their own world. _Do I not have a choice in the matter?_ A part of me didn't think so, based on her expectant stare. But you know what I'm tired of having people take my right to choose. If I don't want help, then I won't get help. If I don't want to talk, then I won't talk. And if I don't want to volunteer, then I won't fucking volunteer.

"I don't want to." I said finally standing my ground, crossing my arms over my chest. It made absolutely no sense to introduce myself, because I had 48 hours left…and I planned on getting the hell out of here. The counselor and I had a long drawn out stare down, she didn't seem fazed by my flat out refusal in fact she seemed tickled by it, just like Dr. Coleman had been when I vaguely answered or deflected his questions.

"Okay, you don't have to… I'll introduce myself. I am Dr. Marin Morell, I will be your group counselor for however long your stay is, if you have any questions that you may not feel comfortable asking during group therapy, my office is located outside of these doors, down the hall to your left, it's the second to last door."

"Our topic for today is fear, every living, breathing, thing has fear or fears something. Would anyone be interested in telling the group about their fears?" "Alright…I'll give it to you guys its early…and we have newcomers here so I know some of you are feeling a bit uneasy. I'll go first, but Sheldon, I'm looking to you to start right after me okay." The young boy nodded his head and in return she sent him a warm smile before moving onward with the discussion.

"One of my fears, is drowning, I'm not a very good swimmer so the thought of traveling on or over water causes me to sometimes have an anxiety attack or completely shut down. Do any of you have a fear that is similar to that, crippling the mind from experiencing all that life has to offer or stopping you from getting through your daily routine?"

"Malia, can I talk to you for a moment." We stood there, awkwardly waiting for the rest of the patients to leave the room. "Is this your first day here?" She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, a hint of a warm smile dancing along her shimmering lips. I nodded my head slowly. "When you don't participate, I have nothing to report on you and your progress. So… if you want a shorter time here, you need to talk in group therapy. Have I made myself clear?" Dr. Morell asked as she raised her perfectly arched eyebrow, waiting patiently for my reply.

"Crystal." I'll play along follow the rules, for now, but when no one's looking, I'll escape and I won't look back either.

A/N: I had to cut this into two parts because (A) it became too long and (B I wanted more time to develop the story, chemistry and reasoning behind how Stalia came about. So next chapter is STALIA CENTRAL! I wont be graphic, it's more PG13 nothing crazy. But you will get the hint that sex definitely did take place and it was special because of why she wanted to. I think that is what sort of sucks with TV shows, you don't really get the back story or hear the character's thought process, you just have to figure out what each expression is supposed to be portraying.


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